The Hour of Twilight
by TerraZeal
Summary: Archbishop Benedictus begins to garner distrust in his former allies. Harrison Jones, Tirion Fordring, and King Greymane team up to try and convince King Varian that the priest is a traitor. Deathwing is a dick. R/R.


_**Author's Note:**__ Fic involving the Twilight Father. Archbishop Benedictus came a long way from teaching priests about "The Light", unless the Light now shines out of Deathwing's ass. Deathwing is a raging dick, Benedictus is a raging dick. King Varian, Tirion Fordring, and Harrison Jones somehow get involved. I love Deathwing fics. Sorry. He's the only villain with a backstory I can totally get behind. Though his ultimate goal somehow involves killing his family and destroying the world. I portray Deathwing as very "Genre Savvy" as TVTropes would call it. He knows not to underestimate mortals, and is portrayed that way. "Ashbringer" is referring to Tirion Fordring, not Mograine, for those who may be confused._

_**The Hour of Twilight**_

After his failure, Deathwing had allowed him to return, unharmed, to where he had been. To...purifying...young minds. The Twilight Father, also known as Archbishop Benedictus of Stormwind, smiled. His master was merciful indeed. Oh so merciful. He'd pleaded with Deathwing, groveled before him...that damnable horde shaman had caused their failure. He would speak once more with King Varian about Thrall.

Neutral though Thrall claimed to be, he was still an orc. Orcs were responsible for the death of Varian's father. Benedictus could be incredibly persuasive when he wanted to be. Everyone in Stormwind trusted him as one of the ultimate champions of the priestly Light.

Except, for some reason, Tirion Fordring and that archaeologist, Harrison Jones. Jones and Fordring were, luckily, gone often and Varian didn't have them whispering in his ear all the time or placing distrust upon the priest. Every time Fordring and Benedictus met, Fordring would just give him a strange, penetrating stare.

And Jones...well, he just seemed to dislike Benedictus. Jones was not affiliated with the Light in any way, he was just...very perceptive, it seemed. The archaeologist missed next to nothing. Fordring had the Light on his side. Truly on his side.

Deathwing had told Benedictus that Tirion Fordring was someone to stay well away from if he could. That the human paladin was as much a danger to them as Thrall was. Yes, Fordring somehow knew, or at least guessed, that Benedictus was a traitor. That the well being of Stormwind and the world in general, the Light, whatever, was not the first thing on his to-do list.

Oh yes, that foul paladin was the Light's greatest champion. Since becoming the Ashbringer and defeating the Lich King, it almost seemed as if Fordring was some sort of incarnation of the Light itself. No wonder Deathwing hated the paladin so much. The paladin seemed as immortal as Deathwing now, after purifying the Ashbringer with a touch and single-handedly breaking out of the Lich King's prison.

Harrison Jones and King Varian though...if he could get them alone, no matter Jones's suspicions, he could change their minds. There was much power that came with allying with the Aspect of Death. He was very...persuasive. Perhaps the Ashbringer couldn't be persuaded that Benedictus was trustworthy, but the others surely could.

_Thinking about those stupid humans again, Twilight Father? _Benedictus cringed. Deathwing's voice. It was like a grating sonic boom, something akin to one of the gnomes' machines exploding inside his head. Vicious, vile, and...powerful. It sent shivers down the priest's spine. A nearby human priest noticed his strange movement and was giving him an odd look. Benedictus merely glared at the other priest and said he felt ill and needed to retreat to his chambers. He did so. The other priest was still watching him leave, an odd expression on his face.

Once inside his chambers, Benedictus went over to a nearby cylindrical bowl, filled with a dark red liquid. Benedictus didn't care to guess what. Deathwing had given it to him. Saying it would allow them to communicate easier over long distances without sapping Deathwing's strength using telepathy.

The priest gazed into the bowl, which shimmered, the red liquid disappearing for the moment, replaced by a vision of Deathwing's human face, which always terrified Benedictus. Almost as much as Deathwing's true form. The part of him that was still a priest knew that the thing he looked upon was an aberration against nature, against the Light.

The vision in the bowl smiled. Serrated blades for teeth, covered in blood. Why he always tried to intimidate the priest, he never knew. "What has you so worried, my dear failure? Has that Fording returned to Stormwind?"

Benedictus stuttered slightly, stumbling over his words as he often did when faced with Death itself. "N-no, master! I was just...thinking. About King Varian. And how I can get him to-to kill Thrall. That-that horrible orc shaman was the cause of my failure, master!"

Deathwing's eyes lit with fury. "Tell me something I don't already know, stupid priest! Convince Varian to declare war on Thrall. Convince his shaman allies in the Earthen Ring to leave unless Thrall does so. That shaman cannot be allowed to continue on this path!"

"M-master? What path might that be, my lord? He is one orc, master! Can you not simply kill him?" Benedictus cringed in pain and agony when he felt, more than heard Deathwing's roar of fury.

"That damnable shaman channeled the power of the Earth Warder, even if it was for a mere moment! No mortal should be able to do that. You want me to face a being that even the great elemental lord Ragnaros is afraid to go up against alone?"

"I'm no coward, priest. I'm not like you. But I know power when I see it. That shaman is more than just some mortal with a bit of shamanic power. In a way...he is the Earth's answer to Fordring. He is to Earth what Fordring is to the Light."

Deathwing was pacing around now. His fury was still palpable. "Do you know how many OTHERS have underestimated him? Do you know whats happened to them? A mere mortal orc that should have been as easy as swatting a fly to kill...and yet THEY are the ones that ended up dead or worse than dead! I will not underestimate Thrall."

"My siblings know this. They know I felt it when he channeled MY power. MY POWER as the Earth Warder to help defeat Chromatus. So, I entreat you, Benedictus, tell me again, should I go up against Thrall, whom even my siblings call 'the Earthbinder'? The one who was underestimated time and again, and whom was never defeated, time and again? Tell me, little priest!"

Benedictus was on the floor now, nearly crying. Deathwing's voice hurt...his ears were bleeding. His master's fury... "N-no, my lord. I...you're no coward! You will not underestimate the orc, you have not! I...I will do as you bid, my lord. I'll find a way to sever the orc's ties with his Earthen Ring allies. I-I will find a way to lessen his power. I will do this in your name, my lord! Forgive me!"

Deathwing snarled. "There is nothing to forgive. Not yet. Do not disappoint me again, Twilight Father, or it will be your head!" Deathwing's visage vanished from the bowl.

Benedictus stepped back from the bowl, trembling, breathing hard. He would see Varian in the morning about the orc. It was late...Deathwing couldn't fault him for needing sleep. Benedictus, trembling still from Deathwing's fury, climbed into his bed, trying desperately to not think about his master.

It was midday when King Varian found himself cornered by Archbishop Benedictus, priest of the Light, leader of all the priests of Stormwind, champion of the Light second only to the great Ashbringer. King Varian wondered what had brought Benedictus to him. The priest had, for a long time, been spreading his teachings across Azeroth in its time of great need. For some reason, he had come back to Stormwind. It must have been important, if he sought an audience with the King nearly as soon as he came back.

Benedictus bowed before Varian's throne. "My liege, I come to speak to you about the orc shaman, Thrall. Throughout my expedition across Azeroth to spread the teachings of the Light, I came across many of your people, and those of other races, who dislike the orc's very obvious leadership and power he holds over the Earthen Ring."

The priest took a breath and continued. "In a bid to hold the Alliance together, and best serve the Light, Majesty, I would ask that you think about withdrawing the Alliance shaman in the Earthen Ring. There is much unrest, my liege. This would do the Alliance much good."

King Varian looked thoughtful. He was thoughtful. Thrall...in a way, despite Thrall being an orc, Varian didn't HATE him. From what the draenei and dwarf shaman told him, Thrall was the greatest of them all. Varian himself hadn't noticed any unrest amongst the Earthen Ring at all. But then...Benedictus had spent every day since the Cataclysm traveling the land. Varian was pretty much confined to his kingdom.

The Archbishop would know more about doings in Azeroth than he. Still...Harrison Jones traveled even more than Benedictus, and Jones hadn't mentioned a single thing about unrest amongst the alliance due to Thrall's presence in the neutral Earthen Ring. Of course, Jones was extremely eccentric and likely paid little heed to such things. Benedictus's allegiance lay with the Alliance and he was likely very sensitive to things that may cause upheaval.

"Archbishop, I will take your concerns into account, but I cannot do anything without more proof. My shaman, dwarf and draenei, have not reported any problems at all with the orcs. Nor has anyone else. I value your confidence, Archbishop, but I simply can't take action without thought. My...previous rash actions have taught me that." King Varian grinned slightly, remembering his fight with Garrosh, his almost-assassination of Moira Bronzebeard, and how it had taken his young son's words to bring him to his senses.

Benedictus felt a chill go down his spine. Varian wasn't listening at all, and if he delved deeper, he would find out the priest was lying. Still, if he pressed it, it would look suspicious. The Twilight Father bowed before King Varian, thanked him for his time, and excused himself.

"Part of what he says is untrue, your majesty." This was from King Greymane, who had been standing in an opposite room, when Benedictus had asked for privacy. "I could...smell his fear, Varian. Something has him running scared."

King Varian looked at Greymane thoughtfully. The worgen king was stubborn, strong, and honorable. He wouldn't lie, but Varian found it hard to believe his greatest priest capable of lying to his face. "Genn, while I value your opinion, the Archbishop has been with us for a very long time. He even taught my son in some of the ways of the Light. Perhaps the fear you're smelling could be his fear for the Alliance. His fear that the horde's presence in the battle against Deathwing will make the battle take a turn for the worst."

Greymane shook his head. "Varian, listen to me. This curse...also has its gifts. It wasn't just fear I could smell. I could smell...lies, King Varian. I wasn't attempting to listen in on your conversation, but, with my curse, it is very hard not to overhear things sometimes. My hearing is greatly increased, far greater than normal human hearing. As is my sense of smell, and my instincts. Varian, in some ways, I am like a dog. Dogs can smell things on people, tell things about them that other humans can't. Perhaps you don't trust me quite yet, but he was lying, Varian. I know it."

With this, Greymane turned and walked away, back to whatever corner of the palace he had taken to occupying in his free time. Varian sighed and sat back on his throne, rubbing his head.

Elsewhere, in the Exodar, the Seat of the Naaru, Tirion Fordring, Ashbringer, supposed greatest paladin to ever live, sat praying to the Light. While his battles against the Scourge were few and far between lately, he had other battles to fight. Deathwing's emergence had brought death and chaos with it.

Even though his heart longed to fight the scourge, the undead monstrosities that the paladin had so long fought against, he knew what the Light wanted, what it NEEDED. Now, more than anything. As shaman and druids could heal the world, the Light could heal the people.

O'ros, the naaru on the Exodar, had told him much during his prayers. _The Light does not abandon its champions. _A'dal's words came back to him at this moment. A'dal had saved a great paladin, Crusader Bridenbrad, from corruption with the undead plague. Had allowed him to move "on", to a place that A'dal had simply called paradise, with no pain, no suffering. Tirion sighed.

Now, at this very moment, the Light's champions, paladins and priests, were fighting the monsters that had emerged due to Deathwing. No, the Light would not abandon its champions, no matter what foe it fought against. Tirion looked up at O'ros, asked again for his knowledge. The naaru responded differently than he usually did. His words were unexpected and a bit shocking.

_Ashbringer, you are the greatest paladin to have ever lived. Even in the dire battle against the Lich King, you held on to your honor, your dedication to the Light. You single-handedly broke free of the Lich King's trap placed upon you, using nothing but your faith in the Light, allowing a great foe to be defeated. Go to Stormwind, Ashbringer._

_A great evil lurks there, one that even King Varian knows not of. The draenei are immortal due to their great connection to the Light. Ashbringer, you have surpassed even the great Prophet in your doings and dedication to the Light. The Light will protect you always, paladin. Go with the knowledge that you are as immortal as we are. Nothing can harm you as long as your faith never wavers._

With that strange, and shocking proclamation, O'ros went silent. A portal to Stormwind appeared next to him. No mage, so O'ros must have made it. Tirion glanced once more at the naaru, silent and apparently in a naaru version of sleep, and stepped through the portal.

Apparently, instead of just taking him to the mage tower, the naaru had wanted him to go directly to King Varian's throne room. Tirion noticed that King Greymane was nowhere to be found. Normally he stood at Varian's side, offering advice and taking it as it came. Harrison Jones, an archaeologist of great renown, was also in the room, apparently arguing with the King about something. Jones always had somewhat of a disregard for authority, Tirion thought ruefully as he watched Jones and the King argue.

They apparently hadn't noticed his presence yet.

"They likely won't notice you for a bit, Ashbringer. The King is incensed with Jones, though, in this case, I must agree with the eccentric archaeologist."

Tirion turned. Greymane had appeared from a room behind him. He was not in human form as usual, but wearing his true form, that of a savage-looking worgen. He still had an air of authority about him and did not appear to be any sort of savage. Either way, the Light accepted all races and Tirion did not even cringe at Greymane, though he'd had little dealings with the worgen race in general.

He bowed before King Greymane. "Your Majesty. Why aren't you with King Varian, as you so often are?"

Greyman snarled a little. "I told him something he didn't want to hear. Instead of arguing, like Harrison is, I simply walked away. A better man knows when it is best to sometimes simply walk away."

Tirion actually disagreed with Greymane. "Forgive me, your Majesty, but a better man will not run from the truth. I cannot hear what is being said, but as a human, as a member of the Alliance, I will not allow evil to run amok in Stormwind if I can stop it. Light forgive me if I must harm the great King Varian's feelings in the process."

The worgen king simply smiled, a smile that looked a bit like a snarl on his wolfish face. "Human, Fordring? Are you, really? Still? I do not smell human when I smell you, paladin. Either way, you are correct. We cannot allow evil to remain inside the city. Perhaps when Jones is kicked out of the throne room, we can talk to him and perhaps put our heads together and...talk about this evil. It has to do with Deathwing. You cannot hear what they are saying, but I can."

Greymane slipped back into the shadows for now, apparently having nothing more to say. Tirion pondered his words for a moment. Not human? But of course Tirion was human...how could he not be and not be aware of it? Surely the Light would have told him..._but it did_, thoughts unbidden came. _As immortal as we are, as long as faith in the Light remains_...what O'ros had insinuated. Tirion shrugged off the thoughts for now.

He approached Varian's throne as several guards finally grabbed Harrison Jones and forcibly shoved him out of the throne room. Jones gave Tirion a helpless smile as he was being shoved along. Tirion almost rolled his eyes. Harrison was a character. He was better off far away from civilization...

"Tirion Fordring! To what do I owe this pleasure!" King Varian appeared shocked at his presence. "You have...forgive me, your armor has much changed since last we met."

Tirion was no longer wearing the plate from Icecrown, but armor that had been a gift from the Light. Lightbringer, it was called, he had been told by A'dal, the naaru that had gifted him with a full plate set. The shoulders shown with golden light and the helm was no helm at all, but seemingly a halo of brilliant, shimmering light. Lightbringer, indeed. Tirion felt this armor was much more fitting than any other.

It was modified from traditional Lightbringer that A'dal gifted to those who fought in the name of the Light against the Burning Legion. The chestplate had acquired large, golden, glowing wings on the back. Tirion almost felt as if they were not part of the armor, but part of himself now. Many paladins could use their Light-granted powers to summon similar golden wings, but Tirion's never faded or grew dull. Something he attributed to the modified armor.

He nodded to Varian. "Yes, my liege. It was a gift of A'dal's. The naaru thought it more fitting for me than my previous armor."

Varian stared at him a little bit before speaking. "Ah...Tirion...you know not how much I've craved the opinion of a logical man, a man also of the Light to help me see truth in these troubled times. That, pardon me, insane archaeologist Harrison Jones, and, though I do not like to slander other monarchs, King Greymane, seem to believe there is treachery in the ranks of the Light."

"That is why I was sent here, Majesty. The naaru in the Exodar also believes there is treachery in Stormwind. Perhaps Jones and Greymane were not lying. I do not mean to claim that you cannot root out treachery in your own city, just that the signs point to treachery, and even a very incarnation of the Light itself warned me there was."

This was not at all what Varian had wanted to hear, but Tirion had always been very blunt and truthful. He would not withhold the truth, even if it caused Varian pain. Tirion's loyalty was to the Light first, and to his King second. If he even still recognized Varian as his king. Tirion was Lord of Mardenholde Keep, a ruler in his own right, but lately he had left much of his dealings in Mardenholde to his advisors and spent a great deal of time with the draenei on the Exodar, praying to the Light.

Varian also considered Tirion a bit eccentric. He had great respect for paladins, but someone like Tirion...he was far different than any paladin Varian had ever met. It was almost as if he WERE the Light incarnate. Varian just could not relate to the man or see things through his eyes like he could most men. Jones just seemed...insane. Greymane was trustworthy, but Varian still refused to believe such an old friend was a traitor. Still, he would hear Tirion out, as he had heard Jones out.

Jones had not been respectful at all, simply yelling and spouting rude things about there being a "damnable traitor" in the city and Varian was incompetent for not being able to see it. Sometimes Varian thought of simply banishing Jones from the city. He might actually LIKE that. He never stayed for more than three days anyway. He likely wouldn't notice if he were banished.

Varian sighed. This day just couldn't GET any worse...


End file.
